


Drunk at a New Year's Party

by fuzzyfying



Series: December Fanfiction Challenge [30]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Drunk Lydia, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Multi, New Year's Eve, Other, lexi fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 13:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzyfying/pseuds/fuzzyfying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dec 30: Drunk at a New Year's Party</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk at a New Year's Party

The room was dark, slashes of multicolored light streaking across the black expanse of the dance floor. In the center, Stiles was a tangle of limbs, gyrating to the twisting chords that overlaid the bone-deep thrumming of the bass, pale skin flashing into color intermittently. Around him bodies thrashed and twined, sweat droplets flung from arching finger tips into the melee of what could only be described as writhing bliss. The beat drumming deep in his bones, Stiles pulled the nearest body into him, draping a loose arm over his shoulder and dropping them into a dip before righting and slipping into the next pocket of heat.

Off to the side, Lydia Martin didn’t know she was drunk.

“Don’t worry, Sweetie, not everyone can be as smart as me.” Her syllables slurring slightly and unsteady in her 8-inch heels, Lydia hip-checked the counter, “They call it gifted but it’s not as great as it seems. It just means that I have to wait around while everyone else spends two hours on something I solved in two seconds.” She smiled sweetly, “At least you’re cute?” she offered, patting Cora on the shoulder. Cora only nodded, jaw set and arms folded and eyebrows rising higher up under her hair as she leaned against the bar.

“But it’s hard too,” Lydia hiccuped, eyes tearing up, “because it’s this thing to live up to, that I don’t know if I can live up to, because I’m supposed to be better, and I’m supposed to be the best, and I’m not, there’s so many people better than me that it’s like I’m not even good.” Lydia, turned into Cora, addressing the top of her shoulder more than anything else, “What if I’m misclassified? I tell people my IQ is 170 but that’s not even a thing - I mean technically it could be because it’s a percentile scale but it’s really not a thing because people haven’t really hit that point of outlier-ness and they probably wouldn’t really be happy people if they  _did_  exist. Plus they’d pull the mean forward and the scale would adjust to allow it without the numerical representation altering.” Lydia’s face was a mess of tears as she lifted her head dully, a mark red against her forehead where it had thunked against her packmate’s shoulder, her eyes accusing as her inflection bled from defensive to wounded, “What if I’m not anything?” her eyes widened, “Do you think they’ll kick me out of MENSA?”

Cora patted Lydia’s curls, eye’s unwavering from where they were locked on the clock. “There, there.”

Lydia sniffled in relative quiet for a few seconds.

“Cora?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think everyone will ever love me?”

“Everyone loves you, Lydia.”

“You know what I mean.” Lydia whined, stumbling and faceplanting into Cora’s boobs, where she continued to sob. “No one wants a girl that can out argue every dumbass, problematic, regurgitated statement they got off of Fox news. They want a girl who reads, but not a girl who reads Beauvoir before she falls asleep. They want a girl who wears big glasses, but not a girl who sees. Put the video controller in your mouth, on your boobs, not through their skull.”

“So demanding.”

Lydia hiccuped.

Cora pulled a few tangles loose from Lydia’s hair, stroking gently and she continued to blubber quietly into her chest.

“I’m too smart to fall in love.”

“Oh, so you’re smart again, then?”

“It’s such a ridiculous concept - I’ll never be so enamored with someone I want to be with them even though they suck.”

“That’s it, let it out.”

Lydia straightened, blearily reaching for her empty glass.

“No, no, no, none of that now.” Cora waved off the men queuing to buy the pretty drunk her next drink. “Let’s get you ho-”

“THIS IS MY FAVORITE SONG. CORA. CORA. CORA. DANCE WITH ME.” Lydia screamed into the werewolf’s ear before lurching off into the crowd, disappearing and reappearing as she weaved her way through the dance floor, arms up and cheering wobbily, not even stopping to wipe at her tear-stained cheeks.

It wasn’t long before Stiles found her, high off music and endorphins, and pulled her to the center, where the two of them twisted and twined in manic patterns of joy. Cora had to admit, it was sort of beautiful the way they just fell together, graceful limbs under the flashing lights.

Sighing lightly, Cora pulled her hair out of it’s ponytail and shouldered her way in. She met her pack in basal instinct, moving with the music at the most thoughtless level, she tilted her head back, and howled.

 


End file.
